


Forgive Us Now For What We've Done

by patientxxzero



Series: Ties that Bind [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU storyline, Drama, Eventual Non-Con, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter and Baelfire bonding, Ramsay Bolton creeping everyone out, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, father-son bonding, past Hook/Pan relationship, past Peter and Ramsay friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7212667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientxxzero/pseuds/patientxxzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Pan wakes in Storybrooke to find the curse was broken and the heroes won. What's more he is powerless and he's been taken in by none other than Rumplestiltskin. The past weighs between them, vast as an ocean, but perhaps now they can finally heal. But Pan's past is more complicated than his relationship with Rumplestiltskin and the nightmare he avoided in Neverland finally finds him in Storybrooke.</p><p>Inspired by Java1's prompts: With the curse backfiring, Pan is left without his magic (but still in his child/teen body) and is brought back to Rumple's home and left in his care. (And) Spanking for discipline.</p><p>(Title is from the song O Children by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wishes Don't Come True Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Java1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java1/gifts).



He wasn’t entirely sure what happened, all that was important was the fact it did not go his way. Peter already hated this Land Without Magic, if it had been Neverland he would have made those fools dance to his tune. For the first time in a very long time, Peter did not wish to open his eyes and burst from his camp because he knew he was no longer in his camp. This place did not smell of Neverland, of fresh sea breeze and succulent fruits, it smelled of dust and containment. A cage. This whole world was a cage to him. Finally Peter opened his eyes and stared sullenly at the ceiling above him. He was so close! It just wasn’t fair! He felt his jaw clench and his eyes burn with barely suppressed rage as the faces of those responsible flashed in his mind. He should have rid himself of them in Neverland…but they had been so fun and he’d been so sure they couldn’t stop him. Henry was sufficiently manipulated; it hadn’t been too hard but those damn heroes! 

Peter sat up slowly and stared at his hands, letting his fingers curl into fists. They should have killed him. His full lips curled into a smirk and dark eyes looked up from clenched hands. Those idiots, Neverland may have been his kingdom but that did not leave him entirely helpless here. He would learn the layout of this infernal place and soon he would be crowing over the defeat of his enemies. Oh what a game! What adventure! His body trembled at that thought and he stood up, ignoring the way his legs seemed to strain with the simple action. He cast his gaze about quickly, discerning his surroundings. A fine room, barely furnished save for the small bed he woke up in and a single dresser by the window. Peter moved to the window now and pushed it open, inhaling deeply. He could smell the sea but even the sea here didn’t quite thrill him as the one in Neverland had. Now then, all that remained was to fly from here and gather some allies, Peter knew his silver tongue would gain him some friends. 

He grinned and willed his body to the air and…and nothing happened. “Why is nothing happening?” he asked aloud. He tried again, he tried jumping in place, but he knew from the start that he would not be able to do it. He let out a quick, bark of a yell and grabbed one of the handles on the cabinet. In a fit of rage he yanked the drawer free and threw it with all his force against the wall. It made a satisfying crack! as it collided with the wall, a dull thud when it hit the floor. Breathing heavily all the same, Pan stormed over to the door and grasped the knob. It was locked. Pan kicked at the horrid thing, twisted at it until his hands felt raw and finally set upon it with his fists, screaming out to whoever was reckless enough to try and trap him.

Exhaustion stole over the boy and he slumped to the floor. He refused to cry, no one could make him cry! Why was he so tired anyway? In Neverland he had enough energy that he was liable to burst without the constant thrill of his adventures, but here he felt dull somehow. Dark. 

“Are you finally done?” 

Pan’s eyes widened at the familiar voice before they narrowed dangerously. He got promptly to his feet, placing his hands on his hips and staring defiantly at the door. “I should have guessed it would be you, Rumple,” he said, masking the irritation that still seethed within him. He even managed a grin, though Rumple would not see it. “For all your talk you just can’t let me go, can you?”

He heard the lock click and the door opened to reveal Rumplestiltskin. He looked as he had in Neverland, minus the impressive outfit. Instead he was in a nice suit and he had a cane in his hand. Peter tilted his head back a bit, the better to appear as if he was looking down at the man, and smirked. “Feeling lonely?”

“You may want to curtail the arrogance,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “You have no power here. You live only because of my good graces.”

“Your good graces? Does the Dark One truly have such a thing?”

“Oh indeed,” Rumplestiltskin voice was a mere whisper and danger lurked in his eyes. “Otherwise I would have to treat you much as you decided to treat my furniture.” And here he glanced at the destroyed drawer still slumped against the wall.

“I find myself growing weary of this already,” Pan said, feigning an obnoxious yawn. He was perturbed at having no powers, but he would find a way to restore them, or else find someone else who could do it for him. “If I have no powers and you see me as no threat I’ll take my leave.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You are, what is the term they use around here? Grounded. Yes.”

Pan furrowed his brow. “Is that supposed to be funny?” he snapped. Grounded, oh grounded, was there anything worse than not being able to take the skies, to swim among the clouds? To dive bomb Lost Boys when they weren’t paying attention? 

Rumple clearly enjoyed the effect and he grinned. Sometimes Pan understood very well why Killian likened Rumple to a crocodile. “I think it’s been too long since you were in a position such as this. I do believe it will do you some good.”

Pan felt his shoulders tense. He knew Rumple was choosing his words very carefully, the best to affect him with, but if he gave signs of it, Rumple would feel like he won. Peter Pan never lost, however, and he would not start now. “Very well, then fetch me some food. I grow hungry and if I’m not allowed to leave you shall have to cater to my needs.”  
That struck a nerve, Peter could see the slight flush of anger on Rumplestiltskin’s neck. Who dared challenge the Dark One? Well, he did of course. He held no fear of Rumple, not in the traditional sense. They stared at each other for a moment, all the years between them seeming to catch up to them and blur out the room. Save for that fateful day, Pan did not think about the day when the shadow came and freed him. He was Peter Pan and Peter Pan only. What Rumple was thinking was a mystery, face an impassive mask that was almost impressive, yet the silence dragged on too long and Pan huffed, crossing his arms over his torso. “Or do you expect me to starve up here?” he inquired.

“You will eat when I decide you can eat,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “You’ll get nothing until you clean up this room.”

And without another word Rumple left him there, locking the door behind him. Who was he to order Peter around? 

***

Peter absolutely refused to pick up the mess he had made and instead he just looked sullenly out of the window. He considered climbing out, but there were no trees by this window and the fall would injure him. He seethed at the mere thought. Storybrooke shouldn’t even be here! None of this was fair, he had planned everything so well! He was guaranteed his youth forever, to be truly immortal with nary a fear and now he was just…this. Powerless and trapped by Rumple, and oh how Rumple must have rejoiced at his seeming victory. 

Darkness stole across the room and Peter’s stomach growled, contracting painfully as it called for food. If Rumple meant to humiliate him it would not work! He heard the door open and he glared at it as Rumple came into the room bearing a tray of food. At seeing the mess still littering the floor Rumple wrinkled his nose. “I thought I told you to pick this up.”

“Oh you did, Rumple, you did. I simply chose not to,” Peter replied, refusing to look at the food and trying to ignore the savory smells of it. 

“If you plan on being difficult I assure you…you will break long before I do,” Rumplestiltskin warned.

Peter felt a flash of irritation. “Spare me,” he said coldly. “I know you, Rumple, as much as you might deny it. You could never let go, you’re not going to now. You’ll do what you can to mend the bonds. I wonder, how is that going with Baelfire anyway? Has he actually forgiven you? Oh, wait, he’s probably issuing the same poetic lament you did. Abandoned for magic, his father was selfish…and a coward.”

“Enough.”

“It must be so painful for you,” Peter continued, feeling malicious. “To harbor such anger, you probably told yourself you were going to be a wonderful father. You would always care for your son, your Bae, you would put him above all else. Until you found your true desire. Your true…love.”

“I’ll not put up with this,” Rumplestiltskin said and the air in the room grew oppressive. Ah yes, the Dark One. Peter could see Rumple losing out to the madness within. It was dangerous, but Peter always did enjoy a challenge. 

Despite the cane, Rumplestiltskin managed to cross the room quickly and when he took hold of the collar of Peter’s shirt, the boy’s first instinct was to strike them. No one was allowed to simply grab him in such a manner, not without permission. But this was Rumple, and whatever lay between them there was a special place for Rumple. Peter hated it was the case but it kept him from lashing out. Instead he just stared at the man with a defiant eye, daring him to do more. 

“And what of you?” Rumple’s voice was laced with venom. “Shall we examine your choices? Never even trying for an honest life’s work? Abandoning your own kin in order to keep your youth? Are you truly so selfish as to deny how your influences may have extended beyond you?”

Peter’s mouth twisted into a grimace and his eyes flashed as he pushed Rumplestiltskin away from him. “Are you such a coward as to deny your own actions?!” he demanded. “You can’t blame me forever, Rumple! Blame is an ugly thing!”

Rumplestiltskin lashed out with his cane, hitting Peter in the gut and making him double over. He took the opportunity while Peter was winded to grab him again and the room spun as Rumple dragged him over to the bed. He coughed, trying to regain his breath as Rumplestiltskin sat at the edge of the bed, but before he could orient himself completely, Rumple was yanking him over his knees. Peter blinked in surprise and finally horror when Rumplestiltskin tugged at Peter’s pants, pulling the waistline down enough that his rear was exposed to the chilly air.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” he spat. 

“You want to act like a child? Be forever young? Then I shall treat you as such,” Rumplestiltskin replied coldly. 

His hand came down hard on Peter’s skin and he winced as the skin burned and tingled from the blow. His cheeks felt, if possible, even hotter and he thrashed about until Rumplestiltskin hit him with even more force.

“How dare you!” the boy roared.

“Silence,” Rumple ordered softly. “I took you in, there are those in this town that would simply see you killed. I did not let them. However, if you are going to act this way in my home I will discipline you until you cease acting like a brat.”

He hit him again and tears sprang to Peter’s eyes. It did hurt but the humiliation was worse, draped over Rumple’s knees like this and completely helpless. If he had his power…but he didn’t, he was just a boy. 

“I never raised a hand to you!” he said, desperate now to escape such torment. 

Rumple’s hand, poised for another blow, paused but Peter was met with silence. Peter couldn’t even look at the man. He closed his eyes, fighting back tears of embarrassment. “Never. I would have never done this to you…”

“Only because you were too busy trying to be a friend instead of a father,” Rumplestiltskin replied finally. “And I never gave you cause.”

Peter did well in Neverland when he was reunited with Rumple there. He simply focused on the man he was and refused to think of the boy left behind. He saw that boy now though. Round cheeks and sandy hair, big eyes that looked at him with admiration no matter what. He forced himself to stop thinking about it when the image of holding a young Rumple flitted past. No. He could not, he would not! He was given eternal youth and nothing would make him give it up!

“You abandoned me,” Rumple hissed and his hand came down again. Peter’s backside was on fire. “You never truly cared!”

Peter recalled their conversation in Neverland. Rumplestiltskin had accused him of being aloof then too, and it didn’t help that he used Pandora’s box on him soon after. But he had meant it, he did…Rumple was just too stubborn and he couldn’t afford to continue their game. Not a game…a chance to be reunited, to start over. Rumple had spat it back in his face and in an impetuous mood Pan had trapped him. Had he always been so rash? Yes, yes…don’t think otherwise.

“You were always a child!” Rumple’s voice was hoarser, his rage stealing into the tone. “You were so busy chasing youth that you forgot you were a father!”  
He continued to spank him and Peter almost wished he could die from the humiliation. He didn’t have to worry about it happening; this land was a land without magic…wishes never came true here. “S-stop,” his voice broke into a sob. “Please.”

But he didn’t.

“STOP!” Peter wailed.

How could Rumple do this to him? THIS! Peter Pan was the ruler of all Neverland, its veritable God, and Rumple thought to treat him like this? How? How could he? Rumple’s hand struck him again and Peter cried, unable to fight it anymore. 

“You..” Rumple’s hand came down again. “You have no right!” Peter screamed as Rumple spanked him again. “Stop I’m not--!”

A child. But he was, he would always be a child, he had just never felt so young and helpless before.

Rumple shoved him to the floor with no kindness and stood up, leaving Peter to curl up into a ball and cry. It wasn’t the pain of the thing, not really, it was everything else that came with it. He looked up at Rumple through his tears and Rumple stared down at him, his face impossible to read. 

“How could you?” he asked again.

“Clean this mess,” Rumple replied icily and strode out of the room, leaving the tray of food on the floor by the door, which was promptly locked.

With shaking fingers Peter pulled his pants up again, the fabric feeling like knives against his sensitive skin. He meant to stand up boldly and eat his food, instead he feebly crawled to it, feeling worse and worse by the minute as Rumple’s words echoed in his mind. He just didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. Peter ate where he was, his back against the door. He barely tasted the food and he sniffled once or twice into the growing darkness of night.


	2. If Sorrow Could Be Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Infuriated at Rumple's discipline, Peter seeks out an old friend to teach Rumple who's in charge. Peter wants to take away Rumple's powers and he has the means to do it so long as Killian helps him. But when the chance comes for the strike, will Peter be able to let Killian do it? And how will Peter react when he truly sees the Dark One?

Peter did not sleep that night. His humiliation warped to rage and back to embarrassment as swiftly as the breeze rolling through the town. Rumplestiltskin dared to think he could get away with such a thing? Peter would teach him otherwise! But how? He did not think he could even look at the man after what happened. What if Rumple merely taunted him about it? What if such an act had no effect on Rumple and he only grew worse the more Peter ‘disobeyed’? For Peter would never cave in to Rumple’s demands. Soon enough order would be established here and Peter would be sure to be on top once again. Yet that question persisted…how? He had no means to battle the Dark One, not as he was now without his powers. He needed someone to do the deed, someone who wouldn’t mind getting their hands dirty. 

Or their hook.

Peter sat up in bed just as the pre-dawn began to swell to morning. Killian! He nearly laughed for not having thought of the pirate immediately. Certainly their relationship had been strained after Killian’s recent trip to Neverland…but what he would ask now would have nothing to do with Emma or her son. All he needed to do was get out of this house and find a means for Killian to do some damage. Only damage. Despite the pain he still suffered he could not find it in his heart to have Rumple killed. Did Killian? Peter was not entirely sure where the two stood when it came to their complicated past. And would Killian even look at Peter knowing that…other identity? Did it matter? Peter always had a way with words…that had not been taken from him. 

But in order to leave he would have to let Rumple think that he’d been cowed. That the punishment made him meek and open to ‘behaving’. Peter Pan did not behave, but he was fond of games. He grinned, feeling at least a little less distraught over the previous night and set out to pick up the drawer. It did not fit perfectly, having been damaged, but it was better than before. After that, he sat neatly on the bed, ignoring the faint burn from Rumple’s hand that still ailed him now. 

Rumplestiltskin did not appear until the sun was well up in the sky. When the door opened it was to Rumple carrying another tray of food. He looked about the room and noticed it had been cleaned. Peter’s bed was even made. “I see you were finally productive,” Rumple’s voice was smooth and touched of triumph. Peter did not let it deter him from his goal.

“Yes,” he replied. “You…I do not appreciate your methods, Rumple, but I see if I am to survive it will have to be…through your good graces,” he finished in a sneer. “But I have done as you asked and request permission to leave this house. I cannot stand to remain in this solitary room another full day.”

Rumple’s brow lowered and Peter stood up.

“Oh what could I possibly do?” he asked, making sure to keep enough distaste in his tone. “I have no powers to speak of, I couldn’t possibly cause any harm as I am now.”

“You will be back by five o’clock this evening,” Rumplestiltskin commanded. “Not a minute later.”

“A curfew?” and this time the disdain was not feigned whatsoever. Rumple’s expression was steeling again and he cleared his throat. “Very well. Five o’clock.” And inside he was seething at all the rules Rumple imposed on him. How dare he? Was he truly so angry that he would take everything Peter loved about life and destroy it? 

“I would advise you keep away from the others,” Rumple added and yes, his smirk was definitely smug now. “They’ll not be so pleased to see you.”

“The mere thought of seeing them puts me in a foul mood anyway,” Peter replied petulantly. “No, I shall go to the forest.”

“I do not really care where you go.”

Peter told himself the statement didn’t hurt and he tried to see if Rumple was just being cruel. But his emotions were closed off. They spent too much time apart and Peter would never be able to read the man again. He left the tray and disappeared and this time Peter did not hear the lock turn into place. So he ate his breakfast with gusto and was quick to leave the room before Rumple could change his mind. He found his way down a dimly lit hall to a large staircase, where he promptly jumped up onto the bannister and slid his way down with a joyous ‘whoop!’ and landed neatly at the bottom. Peter opened the front door and set out to Storybrooke proper.

***  
Peter did as Rumple advised and avoided the people of Storybrooke. He was not afraid of them but he did not want them getting in the way. As for the matter of finding Killian…once he saw Emma was with her family and not the pirate it was a simple matter of picking out where the captain would feel comfortable in this town. It did not take him long to find his way to the docks and sure enough, there was his captain lounging easily on a bench and staring out into the bay. He looked different now. He had traded in his clothing to match the strange attire of this town, but it suited him. 

Realizing that his hook was more dangerous than ever, Peter cleared his throat to announce his presence and Killian looked to him and narrowed his eyes. 

“So it is true, you did survive,” he said curtly.

“Yes,” Peter replied, walking over to the bench with all his usual confidence. “I wanted to see you.”

He did enjoy the way Killian’s brow arched, it asked the question he knew was on the pirate’s mind but it was voiced anyway. “Why?” and he was suspicious. It did not bother Peter, their meetings usually started with suspicion.

“Rumplestiltskin seems to think that I have to stay with him,” Peter said, unable to completely hide his irritation. He sat down on the bench next to Killian and the pirate shifted away from him. Peter hardly noticed. “He is treating me like some servant, telling me what to do and giving me rules…me! Can you imagine me being anchored down by such nonsense?”

Killian’s smile was not friendly. “So the son becomes the father.”

“Careful Killian.”

“Why shouldn’t I simply run my hook across your neck?” Killian demanded. “You deceived me. You knew the whole time and you let me go on like a bloody fool about the crocodile.”

“I hardly thought of him as a part of me,” Peter said easily. “Why should I have told you? So you could warp everything like normal and try to murder me just for being connected?’

Killian raised the hook to Peter’s throat and Peter forced himself not to flinch. The thing could kill him here, but he didn’t need to let Killian know that either. Instead he just tilted his head back, defiant and challenging. “I don’t think Emma would much like it if you tried to spill my blood here,” he said, smirking.

It was enough to give Killian pause and he lowered his hook with a great amount of reluctance in his face. “I still see no reason why you should seek me out, lad.”

“I need your help.”

“Oh, aye? And you think me willing to give it?”

He didn’t really want to resort to this, well perhaps he did a little because he so did love gaining the upper hand with words alone. “Unless you want Emma to learn about certain activities that we engaged in I think you’ll be willing.”

“She’d never believe you,” Killian spat.

Peter grinned again and darted a hand out to lay it over Killian’s groin. “I think she would after I detail every aspect of your body to her,” he said innocently. Killian knocked his hand away and Peter made no moves to touch him again. “Besides, you’ll like this. We’re going to take away Rumple’s powers.”

“I stabbed that demon with your bloody dreamshade and he still did not die,” Killian muttered, turning his gaze back to the ships in the harbor. 

“That’s because you didn’t have me around,” Peter teased. At Killian’s dry look Peter laughed. “I swear it was supposed to work, you know how potent it is. Anyway,” he continued quickly noting the dangerous look growing in Killian’s eyes. “I left something behind at the well in the woods, before your awful heroes fouled up everything…it’s something we can use to make Rumple as powerless as…”

He almost said ‘me’ but again decided it was best for Killian not to know his predicament. He was quite certain the pirate would run him through if he did know and simply dump him into the harbor and be rid of him. “You’re not friends with him now I hope…”

Killian grimaced and Peter smiled. “Excellent. Then what say you, Captain?” and he purred the title like he used to on those forbidden days at the spring. Killian did not miss his tone and he stood up in haste. 

“Bloody hell. Fine…you devil.”

***  
“It looks like mud.”

“It’s not mud,” Peter muttered. “Are you intentionally being stupid?”

“Careful or I’ll let Gold know you’ve been misbehaving.”

“Oh, so it’s Gold now? No more Crocodile this? And Crocodile that?”

The two glared at each other over the jar Peter held tightly in his hands. His relationship with Killian had always been tense, but he liked to think there was something more than animosity between them by the time Killian left Neverland. Naturally, whatever strides they made in that direction had been destroyed once Killian learned more about Peter, specifically about his ties to Rumplestiltskin. Oh but Rumple certainly knew how to cause trouble, even when he wasn’t directly involved.   
Peter settled his stance, looking (and feeling) cocky once again. “You just dip that hook of yours in this and pierce his skin with it.”

Killian’s eyes, gentler than they had been in the past, took on that hard look Peter was so fond of years and years ago. He held up a warning finger. “Not to kill him,” he said sternly. “That…that would be too good for him. Wouldn’t it be better to let him suffer without his powers?”

“You used to be a better liar,” Killian noted and Peter hated him for a second. “Fine. Now how do you expect to get us there, I can’t particularly see Gold welcoming me into his home with open arms.”

“Don’t you remember who you’re talking to?” Peter asked with a scoff. “Leave that up to me.”

***  
Peter felt a certain glow when he successfully worked a back door open that led to a pantry in Rumple’s house. He would kill to have his powers back but it was nice to know he wasn’t entirely useless without them. He opened the jar with the potion and instructed Killian to soak the hook with it. The pirate did so with some disgust on his features that only served him right for being so difficult in the first place. Once the hook was coated, Peter screwed the lid back on and hid the jar among an assortment of pickled…something. He decided he did not want to know what the Dark One got up to in here and led the way out of the pantry with Killian close on his heels.

“Remember…you aren’t aiming to kill him,” Peter whispered for what might have been the hundredth time. 

“Aye, unless the bastard tries to kill me,” Killian said. “I’m not about to die for you, boy.”

“Fine,” Peter hissed through clenched teeth. He missed the days when Killian worked for him rather than now where the pirate assumed they were working together. 

“Belle should still be in the library,” Killian muttered and Peter wasn’t sure why he cared. Ah, right…Emma would care. 

“I suppose I’m not the only one learning to live with new rules,” Peter said slyly and Killian lifted the hook up as if to strike him. It took quite some willpower not to flinch and Peter realized he probably wasn’t used to his predicament enough to act accordingly anyway. 

They moved silently the rest of the way and Peter could feel how uncomfortable Killian was the longer they were here. He couldn’t blame him, he supposed, but it bolstered his own confidence so he said nothing to reassure the pirate. When they reached the study, the door slightly ajar, Peter held up a hand to indicate Killian should wait. Peter stepped into the room alone to see Rumplestiltskin sitting in a lofty armchair with a book. Rumple looked up as soon as Peter crossed the threshold and he did not smile. In fact, he looked stiff…stiffer than usual and Peter felt awkwardness slither over him like a snake. 

“I’m back,” he said lamely.

“So I see,” Rumple replied.

Peter’s eyes darted to the clock. It was only half past three. “Early,” he pointed out.

“Are you expecting some sort of reward for that?” Rumple asked. 

“Why are you still being so cruel?” Peter demanded before he could stop himself. “What more could you possibly want?”

“Are you expecting forgiveness?”

Yes.  
“I do not think you capable of that, Rumple, you made that perfectly clear already.”

Rumple stood up and moved toward him and Peter backed away. He hoped Rumple would see it as a sign of weakness, of fear, and indeed the Dark One shone in Rumple’s face as Peter continued to back up. Once he was at the doorframe he chanced a quick look at Killian, who readied his hook.

“I don’t know how.”

The confession rocked Peter and he felt his lips part as he looked at Rumple. He seemed smaller somehow. 

“Any time I try to find it within myself to do so…I just remember the shadow. I remember how you abandoned me.”

The words seemed to be causing Rumple physical pain, as if he’d rather do anything than admit this to Peter. He might have crowed if it had been anyone else, instead he just felt a rush of warmth for this poor man. But then the previous night came back to his mind and his hands balled into fists. 

“So you strike me instead?” Peter demanded. Why should it all be Peter’s fault? Hadn’t he extended a peace offering already? 

Rumple was close to him now, looking down at him while Peter met his gaze fiercely. They stood in silence for a moment, assessing each other.

“This is bloody ridiculous.”

Peter started, he had forgotten all about Killian and when the pirate pushed him aside to launch himself at Rumple, Peter cried out. Rumple stumbled back in surprise but Killian would still hit him at this range. Without thinking Peter jumped at Killian, tackling the man bodily to the floor where they both landed with a crash against an ornate table that went careening over backwards. 

“You blithering fool!” Killian snarled. Peter was sprawled over him and refused to move, keeping both hands around Killian’s left forearm to keep him from lashing out with his hook. “So this was your game? You thought to trick me?”

“No…” Peter muttered. 

“Move aside.”

And it was not an order from Rumple, no, this was an order from the Dark One. When Peter looked over at him, he could see gold swirling in those dangerous eyes. Those eyes were fixed on Killian, whose renewed efforts had more to do with dislodging Peter so he might defend himself rather than to carry out the attack.  
“Leave him be,” Peter said and when he did get up and Killian sprang to his feet, Peter stood in front of him, acting a shield. “It was my fault. I was playing a game.”

Those golden-hued eyes were on his face now and for the first time in centuries; Peter Pan felt fear clawing at his gut. Fear for himself, fear for Killian, and mostly fear of Rumple falling deeper into the Dark One’s grasp. “Leave him be, Rumple, for me.”

The laugh that escaped Rumplestiltskin was the likes of which Peter had never heard before. He felt Killian twitch, as if he planned to try attacking again after all and he reached behind him, letting his hand rest of Killian’s. Please, please let the pirate not be an idiot and make this situation worse. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Peter continued. “It was my fault. Killian didn’t want to be here at all.”

“This pirate has had sufficient warning,” Rumple said, keening low in his throat and Peter could scarcely see Rumple at all anymore. He held up a hand and Killian let out a strangled gasp, his hand going to his throat as Rumple choked the life out of him.

“NO!” Peter bellowed and he rushed at Rumplestiltskin. He meant to strike him; because he still had a soft spot for the captain and he would never be able to forgive himself if he let Rumple kill right in front of him. Not his Rumple. So what was meant to be a strike ended with him burying his face into Rumple’s chest and wrapping his arms about him in a tight embrace. It felt…awkward. Peter wanted it to feel familiar, to feel…right, instead it felt uncomfortable. He let go when he heard Killian coughing, drawing in gulps of air and dared to look up into Rumple’s face.

The gold retreated from his brown eyes and he stared at Peter as if he had never seen him before. 

“I suggest you leave now, pirate,” Rumple said, never breaking his gaze from Peter. 

Peter glanced at Killian and saw the livid lines etched into his handsome face. He stormed off and Peter breathed a sigh of relief until he was brought back to the present by Rumple laying a hand on his shoulder. That awkward feeling was coming over him again as they looked to each other once more. Peter was having a hard time seeing beyond last night and beyond the monster that inhabited his…that inhabited Rumple. 

“Don’t you ever play at something like that again,” Rumple warned. 

Peter nodded, meant to say ‘sorry’ but found he could not. He never apologized but he wished he could just this once. The man before him was replaced with a memory…a man Peter refused to acknowledge and a young boy with sandy hair and a smile that could replace the sun it was so bright. The man took the young boy, the young Rumple, over his shoulders and twirled about while the surf of the ocean roared close by. Rumple laughed in joy and the man…a man once named Malcolm laughed with his son.

Peter pushed away from Rumple and ran for his room, storming up the stairs so quickly he nearly tripped before he regained his feet and darted into his room. He slammed the door and breathed heavily, bringing his hands up to his face to feel his features. Smooth, sharp, the features of Peter Pan. The features of who he truly was. He listened hard for Rumple but he did not hear him coming after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this story is already plotted out, so fortunately that means it should be written/updated in a relatively short amount of time. More to come tomorrow!


	3. You Don't Have to be an Adult to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter cannot believe how unfair Rumple is being. He can't believe he would dare to spank him again and then force him to stay in a corner like some dog. And chores? What is he, a personal servant? And why can't he seem to meet Rumple's gaze anymore? Peter is ready to call it all quits when Baelfire enters the picture.

When Peter woke the next morning he was half expecting the door of the room to be locked again. It wasn’t and with great hesitation he opened it and headed downstairs, ignoring the bannister this time. He peeked into the study but Rumple wasn’t there. The table that had been knocked over was righted, but the items that were on top were still broken. He paused when he smelled something, something delicious and he made his way to the kitchen, following his nose as he still wasn’t entirely sure about the layout of this house. He walked into the kitchen to see Rumple at the stove making breakfast. The man did not acknowledge him but Peter stood his ground. Rumple’s brief confession from last night rang in Peter’s ears but he did not want to bring it up. Even thinking about it stirred something within him that he was not ready to deal with.   
“Are we so hopeless that I can’t even get a ‘good morning, Peter’?” he asked, feeling moody and hoping to goad Rumple. 

“Still calling yourself that I see,” Rumple replied simply, placing some food on a plate.

Peter automatically went to claim it and Rumple held it up above his head. Peter frowned at him, he was young but he was not so short as to be unable to reach it, it was the gesture that irritated him now. “You claim I’m a brat,” he said, crossing his arms. 

“You are,” Rumple scoffed. “I didn’t make this for you anyway, why don’t you take care of yourself? Oh yes, how could I forget? You are just a child.”

He held the plate out for Peter. Peter knew Rumple was still upset about last night, that Peter had plotted against him and probably for what he said too. But that did nothing to dissipate Peter’s growing temper and in a sudden fit he grabbed the plate and tossed it to the floor where it shattered. Eggs and bacon was strewn over the floor and Peter just smirked at Rumple, shrugging. “Oops,” he said.

Rumple did not miss a beat, he grabbed Peter by the shoulder and spun him around. “What are you--?” but Peter didn’t even have a chance to finish before Rumple spanked him hard. The force made him stumble forward and he clapped his hands to his bottom and turned on his heel, glaring at the man. 

“We’re not done,” Rumple said and Peter saw some of that danger in his face again. “Turn around.”

It had to be this world right? It was doing something to Peter and that’s why he turned instead of delivering a snarky comment and just leaving. It had to be why he didn’t stop Rumple when he pulled Peter’s pants down like the first time. He closed his eyes. Where was Peter Pan? Where was that playful boy who ruled an entire realm and who had his faithful Lost Boys to do his bidding and to please him? 

He cried out, in surprise and pain, when Rumple hit him not with his hand but with a heavy object. He looked over his shoulder to see Rumple wielding a metal cooking spoon. “Rumple…” and he tried to use the voice he used when one of the Lost Boys displeased him but it did nothing to the man he just hit him with the spoon again, making Peter wince. “Why are you doing this?!” he demanded and oh he sounded so pitiful. 

“You broke one of my plates,” Rumple replied. He spanked Peter again. “You wasted my food,” another spank. “You tried to get the pirate to kill me.”

“No!” Peter cried. “Not kill you, never kill you!”

Another spank and Peter felt tears of frustration running down his face. He didn’t think this could happen again! He thought Rumple actually felt bad about it before, that had to have been the real reason he let Peter leave the house yesterday to begin with, right? Another hit and he swore his skin was on fire. 

“Now, get yourself to that corner,” Rumple growled, pointing to the far corner with the spoon. Peter wiped at his eyes furiously and moved over to it. “Face the wall and do not speak.”

Peter stood sullenly in the corner as Rumple cleaned up the kitchen and began to cook again, not daring to disobey. The thought made his stomach drop and he was worried he might actually get sick. He didn’t like these feelings…he didn’t understand them. Peter might go crazy if he had to stay in the house today but then the only person he would want to see out there was Killian…and he rather suspected Killian did not want to see him. “This is pathetic,” he grumbled. “I hate this world.” He wanted his Lost Boys back, to set them upon each other and dance into the night. He wanted to float lazily through the clouds, feeling close enough to the stars that he might pluck them out of the dark sky. Peter Pan was once again surrounded by people and yet he felt lonely. He hated feeling lonely. 

And he hated feeling awkward. It was the dominant emotion that washed over him when he saw Rumple this morning and it clung to him now even more so after the spanking. Did Rumple feel it too? Peter thought he might, thought he noticed the man having a hard time actually looking into Peter’s face.   
Rumple sat down at the table with a new plate of food that he didn’t even pretend to offer Peter. 

“You’ve all the reactions of a pitiful child. Instead of being grateful for what I have done for you you go out of your way to irritate me. You need to grow up if you want a chance   
here,” Rumple said.

“I see this is how it is to be then,” Peter said, his tone icy as he glared at the wall. “We’ll be at each other’s throats until the end of time.”

Rumple chuckled. “Which for you will be much sooner than it will be for me.”

“Do you hate me so?” Peter asked, keeping the hurt from his voice and managing a smirk instead. “If you cannot wait why not kill me now? Why save me in the first place?”

Silence behind him and Rumple said no more. 

***  
The day only got worse for Peter. After an hour of standing in that corner, burning with shame when Rumple denied him even the chance to pull his pants back into place, he was given menial chores. He wanted to escape, to go to the forest on his own and just sit among the trees. Instead he was washing floors, dusting the light fixings, and cleaning the windows. Meanwhile Rumple was always close by and whenever he thought Peter was slacking off he would spank him. It was worse than dying, at least dying would be a great adventure…this? This was liable to drive him mad. 

“Is this how you show you’re trying to learn to forgive me?” Peter finally spat in the late afternoon. Everything ached and he just wanted to crawl into bed and forget this day ever happened. 

“This has nothing to do with that,” Rumple said. “You disrupted my home. You owe me, not the other way around.”

Dinner was a measly affair, bland and simple, and Peter was told to eat in his room. This was both a blessing and a curse, he wanted to study Rumple more to see if he was right in thinking the man suffered the same awkward emotions Peter was subjected to…on the other hand, Peter’s bottom smarted so much from the spankings he received that he was liable to try and shove Rumple out of a window if he looked at him again today. 

***  
He did not feel rested the next morning. Peter’s muscles were stiff from the chores and he rubbed at his rear and winced. It still hurt. Damn Rumple. The thought seemed to summon the man and he opened the door. Peter definitely noticed it now, Rumple’s eyes were focused on a spot above Peter’s head, not looking at him. “I have business in town today,” he said. “You are not to leave the house.”

“Why not?” Peter demanded.

“The last time was the pirate…I’ll not risk having more unsavory fools in my home. I left a list of chores for you to do,” and here he smirked. “You’ll have plenty to do.”

“This isn’t fair!” Peter howled as Rumple turned away. “You can’t treat me like a slave!”

Rumple simply rolled his eyes and left and Peter heard the front door open. He waited about five minutes before he rushed down the stairs and tested it. But it was sealed, not just locked, Rumple must have used some kind of spell to ensure that no one could leave. He kicked the door and was satisfied at the scuff mark he left on the nice wood. “Serves you right, you bastard,” he grumbled. He noticed a list nearby and ripped it up without bothering to read it. 

Instead he spent the day exploring the house until there was literally no spot left to uncover. Bored, he retreated to Rumple’s study to look for a book that might entertain him. Nothing that might help him get his powers back was available and Peter grew tired of looking down the spines soon afterwards. He should have just destroyed some of Rumple’s stuff, that would show him…except Rumple had magic he could use to restore it and Peter would certainly be punished for it. He didn’t think he could handle being punished again.

He heard the door open and he hurried to the entrance hall, expecting Rumple. But it wasn’t Rumple. Peter frowned when he saw Baelfire fix him with a baffled look. “Oh. It’s only you,” Peter sighed. “You bore me.”

The insult didn’t faze Bae, he just rolled his eyes and shut the door. “I didn’t think he was actually going to do it,” he said. “Take care of you.”

“Is that what he told you?” Peter scoffed. “I’d be better off with the Charmings at this rate!”

“Do you remember what happened that day?” Bae asked, sounding defensive. Maybe he really had forgiven Rumple, the thought only made Peter feel worse. “You would have died, you almost did…My father saved you.”

“And now he has me repaying the favor by forcing me to be his personal servant,” Peter said bitterly. “And hitting me whenever I look at him wrong.”

“He hits you?”

“Spanks me,” Peter said. He instantly wished that he could take it back but…well, wishes didn’t come true here. The sooner he could come to terms with that the better and…wait, was Bae hiding a laugh?! “It’s not funny!” 

“Right, sorry,” Bae said but he didn’t sound sorry. “If it’s so horrible I’m sure you could find a way to escape.”

“You sound like you doubt I could handle myself. Do you realize how many years I spent as Neverland’s sole inhabitant? I would be fine, better than ever.”

“Then why stay and complain?”

Peter opened his mouth to make his point when he stopped. Why did he? And why did Rumple really keep him here? Was it just to make him miserable? “He sealed the door with magic,” he grumbled. 

“Look, I know things are…beyond complicated with you two,” Bae sighed, leading the way into the living room and sitting down on the couch. Peter perched on a nearby chair, not entirely sure what Bae’s motives were. “Rumple has…faced a lot of abandonment. It’s not easy seeing you again, he knows the people who left him left because they didn’t love him.” His tone was more accusatory now and Peter felt tension in his jaw. Here was another who wanted the fault to lie solely with Peter.

“It’s not that I didn’t love him,” he said. “I always loved Rumple, I was always attached. Why do you think I went out of my way to make him denounce me in Neverland? To make him hate me?”

The look on Bae’s face promised a horrible answer and Peter held up a hand to prevent him from speaking it. “It was the only way to sever our ties. I couldn’t possibly…be me otherwise.”

“So it’s still for a selfish reason,” Bae said. “You wanted youth and you were willing to break his heart for it.”

“And what of him?” Peter demanded. “Did he not abandon you for magic?”

“Yeah he did, I’m not saying he’s perfect but he is trying. You are still trying to avoid the issue. You’re still acting like a child. Rumplestiltskin may still be the Dark One, he may still have magic, but he is actively trying to make things better.”

“It’s not like I can do that though,” Peter said. “I would be miserable if I went back and that wouldn’t be good for either of us. Maybe if he could just accept me like this…”

“He took you in,” Bae pointed out. “I mean, have you even told him any of this?”

“I can’t,” Peter admitted. “It’s too hard. What if he still doesn’t understand?”

“He doesn’t have to understand right away,” Bae said. “I still don’t understand how he could allow himself to become the Dark One…”

“A child can’t have a child,” the words came back to him and he repeated them now. Bae looked…sympathetic and it surprised Peter. Bae had no reason to show him any kindness. 

“What are you so afraid of?” Bae asked. “Why is growing up so horrible for you?” Peter didn’t answer him and Bae sighed. “In either case it’s not going to happen here, not the way you fear it. If your powers are gone but you still look like that, that’s it.”

Peter hugged himself, drawing his knees up to his chest. “But I will age here,” he said. “I don’t want to grow up…but I don’t want to hurt Rumple anymore. I hate him for what he does but I…I really do want to start over. Somehow.”

“Tell him that,” Bae said firmly. “He’s not unreasonable…well, not completely,” and when he smiled, Peter found himself smiling in return. “Really talk to him, Peter, don’t be sarcastic, don’t challenge him…just talk.”

“Okay.”

“I got to get going. I wanted to ask him something but I can do that later,” Bae said. “Don’t be afraid to show that you care, Peter,” he continued as he made his way to the door.   
“You don’t have to be a grown up to love.”

Peter couldn’t even feel annoyed when Baelfire walked out of the house with no problem and he did not test the door to see if he could follow. He just went back to his bedroom to think about what Bae said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there wasn't a ton of action in this chapter, more an explanation into the issues Peter is having. Don't worry though, the next chapter will be exciting and full of discipline and drama and Peter angst :P  
> Also, if people are wondering why this fic is rated Explicit, that will come up in Chapter Five...just fair warning.


	4. Consequences of Cowardice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If one has to believe in order to fly then Peter will believe. Peter Pan can fly and will fly again...he'll fly to the second star on the right and straight on 'til morning and leave Storybrooke behind forever. If the land without magic denies his belief well...death would be an awfully big adventure. Of course, that's only if Rumplesitltskin doesn't find him first.

More than a week had passed since Baelfire’s visit and still Peter did not talk to Rumple. He tried to avoid the man as much as possible, especially after Rumple came home to find the chores he left for Peter hadn’t been done. He had received another spanking for that, impossibly long and just as humiliating as the first one. He withdrew a bit into himself and felt true sorrow for the first time in a very long time. Any time he attempted to bring up wanting to talk the words got stuck in his throat. Rumple made no move to speak to him seriously either. It was all scathing and ‘do this, do that’ and if Peter refused, Rumple spanked him. He watched him endlessly as he assigned him chores and Peter could not fathom the reason why he did this. Was he trying to teach him something? If so the message was not getting across. Peter did not want to think Rumple was just being cruel, not his sandy haired lad…no! The panic didn’t last as long when thoughts like that came to him. It was mainly because of his talk with Bae. He had a point, he was not going to be engulfed in a puff of magic and suddenly not be Peter Pan. Not here in this crummy, horrible world.

“In Neverland it was just beliefs. I want to believe again,” he muttered as he got out of bed. He looked out the window as he passed, seeing the clock tower. “Second star to the right…straight on ‘til morning.”

If he could just believe. Why should he not? Peter Pan would fly again. 

“I have only one task for you today,” Rumple said as they ate breakfast. At least Peter was allowed to sit at the table with him these days, not that it did much to abate the awkwardness. 

“Oh wonderful, suppose you finally realized that even servants should have a rest day?” Peter asked.

“Once you are done with the task I want you to leave for the day,” Rumple pressed on, ignoring the comment. 

“You mean you’re letting me go outside?” Peter asked, still be snarky.

“Your presence is distracting and I’ve things to do today, I’d rather not be disturbed while you stomped about the house looking for pity.”

“What’s the damn chore?” 

It ended up with Peter heading to the pantry with a smarting rear. He grumbled under his breath as he rearranged the jars full of gross stuff until he came across the potion he smuggled in with Killian. He frowned. Maybe Killian would have forgiven him by now? He needed someone else to talk to besides Rumple. He hid the jar in his coat and once he was done he went to his room to slip his shoes on. He looked out the window again. Second star to the right…straight on ‘til morning. 

Peter grabbed a loose sheet of paper and his pen and wrote a quick note before he left without telling Rumple. He was sure Rumple didn’t care when he left, just so long as he did leave. 

***

Gold was not entirely sure how much more of this he could take. He heard Peter leave the house and he let out a breath. He had nothing planned for the day, he simply could not bear to see Peter anymore. When they returned to Storybrooke from Neverland, Gold had every intention to finish his father off and wash his hands of him. But he could not, the fear and desperation in Pan’s eyes when Gold pierced him with the dagger was too honest. He recalled the same look had stolen across Malcolm’s eyes when he saw his son being torn away by the shadow. His wish granted and the price paid…

But the dagger had done damage, it stripped Peter of his powers and he was nothing but a teenager. Gold should have sent him to the pestilence of fairies instead but he ended up bringing him home. To this day he could not say what had convinced him to do that. He would never forgive him. 

Yet he wanted to.

The child that yearned for his father wanted to forgive Peter. He had no silly misconceptions that Peter would ever be Malcolm again and he did not need that. He just wanted some closure, anything. He wanted things to be set right but the more he punished Peter, the more childish he became. He had hoped after the first time he spanked him that he would get the message; act more mature. Instead he became sullen and petulant and Gold feared that in the wake of losing his powers, Peter really was nothing but a boy. What would happen if he truly forgot about Rumplestiltskin? And why did Gold worry about it so much?

To say Gold did not enjoy punishing those who deserved it would be a lie. The Dark One in him did so love crushing adversaries to quivering cowards…but it was not so with Peter. It probably took as much of an emotional toll on him as it did Peter, yet he did not know how else to get the message across. If Peter was to act like a child he would treat him as one, but he had no experience in the matter. He lost Bae when he was still so young, never had the chance to try again…Indeed there were none in this town who could help him even if he wanted to ask.

He spent the whole day locked up in his study, trying to figure out how to deal with this. No answers came to him and he finally gave up for the day. He hadn’t heard Peter return yet and he looked to the clock. It was already nearing seven in the evening. He frowned and made his way up the stairs. He did not see a light on in Peter’s room and he opened the door with some trepidation. Peter was not inside and when Gold turned on the light he noticed the paper on the dresser. He took it and felt his heart constrict in his chest.

“‘To believe is to fly,’” he read aloud. “‘I believe. Should this land without magic deny my beliefs then I shall accept my next great adventure…’ oh that absolute fool!”

Gold moved as swiftly as he could, leaving the house and getting into his car to drive back to town. Where was he? Where was he? He looked up as he drove, to the rooftops but saw no sign of Peter. He did, however, see a couple walking down the street and there was no mistaken that annoyingly arrogant stride. Gold hit the brakes and got out of the car. 

“Gold…” Emma’s greeting was just polite enough not to be insulting as she and Hook stopped. 

“Where is he?” Gold asked, ignoring Emma. She glanced at Hook askance.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific,” Hook sounded amused. The bastard always sounded amused when Gold was troubled. 

“Pan.”

Hook’s expression soured at the name. “I haven’t seen him since you’re latest attempt to murder me.”

“Seriously?” Emma exclaimed. “Weren’t you both supposed to bury the hatchet by now?”

“He’s attempting to fly,” Gold said, fighting the immense desire to be rid of them both. “Without powers, without pixie dust, just launch himself from some height and if he can’t? Well, he’s making sure he’s high enough to meet his next great adventure should he fail.”

“Bloody idiot,” Hook muttered. 

“Then we find him,” Emma said. Whatever her thoughts were on Pan after he kidnapped Henry she was not letting them get in the way right now. Gold always did admire her for that. “I’ll start on the north end of town…think of where he’s most likely to be.”

And she took off. Gold turned back to his car. “The clock tower,” Hook said and Gold paused. “The clock tower, mate, it’s the highest point in town and Pan is obsessed with time.”  
Gold nodded and got into the car, ignoring Hook’s offer to accompany him and speeding off in the direction of the clock. He dreaded what he would find if he was too late, but when there were no indications of a body in the street he parked the car and got out, looking up at the clock. He could see a pale smudge at the highest point, Peter, looking up at the sky. No, if he jumped he would die. No amount of belief would help him at this point. 

He didn’t call out to him, worried it might startle Peter and make him slip. Instead he started the laborious climb up the steep steps, listening furiously as he made his way through the building and up toward the roof. There was a small door here that he opened and when he did Peter turned swiftly at the noise. Time slowed down when the boy’s foot slid out from under him and his eyes widened as he lurched toward the edge of the roof. Gold cursed and lunged forward, reaching out and grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him to his chest. They stood frozen like that for a minute while the adrenaline slowly dissipated before Gold glared at him.

“What were you thinking?” he snarled. 

“I can fly,” Peter said, bold as brass.

Gold pursed his lips and took hold of the boy’s wrist, dragging him behind him as he led the way down the stairs and back out of the building. He might have exploded in rage, expressed his worries, anything…but it was too much right now and he said nothing instead. He pointed to the car and Peter went to the passenger’s side, getting into the seat as Gold started the engine once more and made the way back to the house.

***  
Rumple’s anger was palpable. Peter thought he could poke it with his finger, it was so thick. The man didn’t say anything as they drove and Peter had to fight to sit still. It would be better if Rumple yelled at him, screamed at him for being reckless…anything but this oppressive silence. He received no respite. As Rumple stopped the car and led the way to the house, Peter wondered if he would have to start some kind of dialogue. 

He never got the chance. The door closed behind him and Rumple stood there with his back to Peter, the tension visible in his shoulders.  
“Rumple, I--”

Rumple spun around and lashed out with his cane. It hit Peter square in the chest, knocking him back against the door and winding him. Rumple grabbed him by the back of his neck, forcing Peter to bend over before he struck him again with the cane. Peter screamed. This was nothing but pain. 

“You don’t understand…what you’ve done,” Rumple was muttering, his voice seething as he whipped Peter again and again, ignoring Peter’s cries and screams. The cane hit everywhere. His rear, the back of his legs, the small of his back…his nerves were on fire and when Rumple released him, he collapsed to the floor sobbing. 

“R-Rumple…Rumple…” he sobbed, curling into a ball. 

He couldn’t see, his eyes were full of tears and his body was nothing but pain. Why would Rumple do this? Why so harsh? He hadn’t done it to goad Rumple, he just wanted to fly again…he would have flown, he was about to when Rumple came for him. Came for him, Peter had been astonished that he came after him at all but it quickly turned to pain.   
Always pain with Rumple. 

“I’m sorry.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard the words or if he imagined them. He couldn’t stop crying, he’d been scared. Scared of Rumple and with good reason it seemed. He felt hands on him and did not have the strength to fight them. Rumple was picking him up carefully and concern was in his face. Concern and regret. “I’m sorry,” he said again and carried Peter up the stairs. Peter wouldn’t hear it, he just covered his face with his hands and continued to sob. Rumple put him gently into his bed, even pulled the covers over him and lay a hand on his forehead but Peter turned to his side, back to Rumple. 

***  
He had lost it. Gold didn’t mean to hit Peter like that, he had meant to talk to him. He meant to tell him that he had been worried, that Peter had no right to scare him like that. Scare him? Why was it that Gold was morphing into the parent in this situation? Why did that even matter right now? Gold had been frightened that he would be too late and Peter would be dead. That’s what he wanted to tell him, but Gold’s fear made the Dark One rise because…because he was a coward and he couldn’t be vulnerable, not even to Pan. So he hit him with the cane instead. He let all his fear come out as anger and when he saw Peter crumpled on the floor, sobbing freely, he knew he had failed the boy.  
It could not be undone, Peter would never forget about this and he would likely never forgive him either. All because Gold was too much a coward to speak the truth. 

Tormented, he sat alone in his study with his head in his hands. What could he do? His head was a cacophony of voices; of those who called him coward and of Peter screaming in pain. He had to do something, he could linger no longer. Perhaps he could not make it right, but he could try. Hadn’t Bae been so pleased with how much he was trying lately? Could he not extend such efforts to Peter if he was to stay here?

He grimaced as he reached the top of the stairs. He held a tray in his hands, fresh made soup, and he opened the door slowly. “Pan?” 

Once again he turned on the light and once again the room was empty, but this time there was no note. There was nothing, just an air of abandonment and Gold knew he would not find Peter, even if he searched the entire town. He set the tray down and sank onto the bed, feeling like he did the day he lost his Bae.


	5. Every Story has a Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter escapes from the house, utterly crushed after Rumple hits him. He tries to talk to Killian to feel better but when Killian brushes him off to he's left to himself. But he's not actually alone. Ramsay Snow, former Lost Boy from a land Peter didn't know, has come to Storybrooke and he's just too happy to reunite with Peter again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That explicit tag? That comes in here...because it's Ramsay and the rating automatically goes up the minute his name is typed out. Could be some triggers in this chapter as it features heavy non-con elements.

Peter limped along the main street, wiping furiously at his eyes. He had tied the bed sheets together to escape out the window but the drop was still too high and he had rolled his ankle. His body felt stiff and slow from the beating he took. A true beating…whatever Rumple might say about him, he had never lifted a hand against him in anger. He had never disciplined him like that…in fact, he had never disciplined him at all! 

He just…he just needed someone, anyone, to talk to. He knew who he wanted to talk to, but when he searched the docks they were empty. Granny’s was closed and the only other place (unless he’d gone off with Emma) was that seedy bar on the outskirts of town. It seemed to take forever to get there, and when he walked in and saw Killian he could have cried with relief. He hobbled over to the pirate, who was sat at a booth nursing a ridiculously large glass of rum, and slid into the seat across from him.

“No,” Killian said once he saw him. “Absolutely not, you devil, I’ll not get involved in any more homicidal games with you.”

“Please, Killian, I just need someone to talk to. Can’t we just talk like we used to?” Peter asked. He should have hated pleading with the captain, but he was just too hurt, too emotional, to put on a brave face. 

Killian frowned at him. “Like we used to? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I don’t recall any heart-to-heart bonding moments with you, lad.”

“I saved you, you stupid pirate!”

“Aye? From what, exactly?”

“Killian…”

“Just leave me be, Pan,” Killian said darkly.

Peter felt fresh tears slip down his face and he left before Killian would see them. He turned down the alley of the bar, leaning against the brick and crying softly into the night. 

“Not a very friendly town, is it?”

Peter started and looked to the mouth of the alley. A figure stood there, a man that Peter didn’t know. There was something familiar about his face though and something familiar about that voice. The man stepped closer and into the light of a streetlamp. He had blue eyes and a mop of dark hair, he was stocky and wearing dark clothes. There was something hungry about his features and Peter crossed his arms defensively even as the man greeted him with a large smile. If anything, the smile made him more disconcerting.

“What’s my name?” he asked.

“I don’t know you,” Peter replied coldly. “I’d prefer to be alone.”

“Hm, starting with lies. Two lies in as many minutes, tsk, tsk. Come now, Peter, you know me. What’s my name?”

It clicked and Peter pushed off the wall of the bar, the better to escape if he absolutely had to. “Ramsay Snow.”

“You win.”

“How…how did you even get here?” Peter asked.

“You told the truth for one part, I am still waiting on the second. You said you would prefer to be alone.”

Peter frowned at him. Ramsay had always been odd. He’d come to Neverland a long time ago, another Lost Boy for Peter. Yet he was always different. The rest immediately recognized Peter as the leader, Ramsay never did. Not really. There was a certain kind of madness about Ramsay from the start; the signs were never subtle. A fairy having her wings pulled off and left for dead, a mermaid left to burn in the sun…Peter never caught Ramsay in these acts but he always knew he was responsible. Somehow. 

The final straw, however, happened after a decade of dealing with Ramsay. Peter had returned to the camp to find one of his Lost Boys was slain. Little Henry. He had only just been brought by the Shadow, younger than most of the other boys. Peter had never seen such carnage. The boy was flayed on the spot. There was a hush about the camp when Peter arrived. Felix had to explain what happened, how he heard the final scream, how he finally caught Ramsay in the act. When Peter went to confront him, he had avoided the subject but he had that sly grin on his face. Instead he spoke of Felix and he spoke of Killian, who had been by earlier to deliver goods to the Lost Boys. 

To protect them Peter banished Ramsay and the shock and betrayal in Ramsay’s face had been genuine. But these were his Lost Boys and Neverland was Peter’s realm and he would not allow this blight to remain. So Ramsay was banished and Peter stopped worrying about him and soon the Lost Boys were back to playing their games. 

“I would prefer to be alone, it is why I said it,” Peter replied.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me I won’t tell you how I got here,” Ramsay said simply. He was older now, probably around Emma’s age, and there were some lines in his face that spoke of hard times. Peter didn’t bother to ask. 

“I will tell you,” Ramsay continued and though his tone was light and he was smiling, Peter could see the rage in those troubled eyes. “How very awful it was to be banished from Neverland…to go back to a land where I was treated as nothing. Just a bastard and nothing more, never worthy of notice.”

“You murdered one of my boys, you would have gone after Felix if I didn’t exile you,” Peter said stiffly.

Ramsay dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “You got more boys, you always got more,” he pointed this out as if Peter was dense for never realizing this. “Now, why did you really banish me from Neverland?”

Peter blinked. “I just told you,” he said. He remembered Little Henry’s glazed over eyes, the sickly sight of the skinned corpse in the camp and he felt angry. Angry that Ramsay would have the gall to even speak to him after what happened. 

“I think you were worried I was going to take your place,” Ramsay said.

“I don’t have time for this,” Peter said. What he really needed to do was suck it up and go find Emma or David and have them arrest Ramsay immediately. He wasn’t sure how long the man was in Storybrooke, but considering there had been no deaths it couldn’t have been long. “It’s late and I should go.”

“No time to catch up with an old friend?” Ramsay asked.

“No.”

“Ah, pity. Was that Captain Hook in the bar? He’s looking remarkably well; perhaps he’d like to chat.”

Peter was irritated enough with the pirate he almost wished Ramsay luck…but Killian had never really dealt with Ramsay. What’s more he was drinking and Peter knew firsthand how Killian was when drunk…the most likely scenario was he’d wake tomorrow to find the pirate was no more. 

“Fine…but neediness is dreadfully boring,” Peter sighed.

“I win.”

He walked closer to Peter and the boy drew back. Ramsay noticed it and he got a serious look on his face. “Now Peter…You hurt me when you sent me away. So I am going to hurt you.”

Peter wished he at least had a knife…better yet his golden sword. Anything that he could use to simply run Ramsay through. Ramsay was smiling again. “We can make it a game. You still like games, don’t you Peter?”

“I’m not going to play with you, Ramsay.”

“If I can get you to beg me to stop, I win,” Ramsay said. “If you don’t…you win. How’s that?”

“I already said I’m not playing,” Peter said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

Ramsay was sauntering closer to him and Peter backed up. His eyes widened when he felt the cool bricks of the bar behind him. Ramsay lunged at him, one hand gripping Peter’s chin painfully tight. Peter the saw the flash of steel before pain exploded in his palm. Shock kept him from immediately screaming when he saw the thin knife blade buried in his hand. Blood welled up and trailed down his wrist as Ramsay slammed the wounded hand above Peter’s head. He had no means to fight him. None. Save for the chance someone inside might hear him scream.

He drew a big breath of air. “KI--” and Ramsay’s hand was over his mouth, cutting off the plea for help.

Ramsay grinned before he slammed Peter’s head up against the bricks. Stars bursts in front of his vision as it clouded over. The world spun around him and blood thundered in his ears as he slumped up against the wall. He was aware of Ramsay pulling the knife from his hand and letting its sharp tip slice his shirt open. Peter swatted at him, still dazed, as Ramsay pushed his shirt out of the way.

He felt the knife against his cheek and a weak sob escaped when Ramsay’s other hand started undoing his jeans. 

“I think…I’ll keep your lips. You don’t really need your lips do you? They’re just so plumb.” 

“G-get away from me,” Peter demanded. He could not beg…could he?

The knife trailed over his lips, staining them red with his own blood. “Like a pretty little whore,” Ramsay crooned.

He took Peter by the shoulders and slammed him into the ground below, winding the boy completely. Peter gasped, his lungs aching, and kicking his legs as Ramsay tugged his pants from his waist. He didn’t get them completely off, he left them around Peter’s ankles before he straddled him.

“This is between us, yes? So if you find it in you power to yell for aid I’ll take your eyes instead of your lips.”

He ran the knife over Peter’s torso, his eyes widening in pleasure as he cut into the skin lightly. Peter realized he was writing something then and, horrified, he looked up to see the word ‘mine’ being carved into his hip. He whimpered and let his head drop, trying to shake off the effects of the blow to his head so he might escape from Ramsay’s clutches.  
“Have you ever been penetrated by a knife?” Ramsay’s tone was conversational and Peter cried out when he felt the knife dipping between his legs, running the length of him before Ramsay gently tapped it against his entrance. “Hm…you’re right, that would be too messy, wouldn’t it?”

Peter was gasping, face streaked with tears when Ramsay pulled the knife away. 

“But you have been penetrated before. Dirty, dirty Peter.”

Ramsay grabbed him by the hair and pulled, making Peter yelp in pain. He got to his feet again, forcing Peter onto his knees. “Get me ready,” he ordered.

Peter looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. Ramsay was already hard. Peter shook his head and Ramsay backhanded him across the face, making his head ache so terribly. He opened his mouth, feeling pitiful, and Ramsay smirked at him and thrust into his mouth. Peter choked, feeling like he might vomit. “No biting or I’ll knock out your teeth,” the man warned.

Peter had never done this, not with his Lost Boys, not with Killian. It made his throat ache and his stomach churn as Ramsay rocked his hips into him. He felt a hand close around his wrist and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see. Ramsay seemed to be inspecting the wound on his hand until he turned it over and Peter felt the tip of the knife under his fingernail. He groaned in protest as Ramsay continued to thrust into his mouth. “Remember about the teeth now, Pet,” Ramsay all but sang and he dug the blade under the nail. Peter screamed around him as Ramsay worked the nail from the flesh and he did cough around vomit when he saw the nail fall listlessly to the ground next to his knee.  
Ramsay went to the next finger. “Remember we’re playing, Peter,” he said. “Is winning really this important to you?” another nail popped off and Peter pulled back.

“Please no more!” he cried. Ramsay gave him a warning look and he lowered his voice, gasping and feeling as if he wasn’t getting enough air. “Please, please stop.”

“I win!” Ramsay said brightly.

He pushed Peter down to his back again and straddled him once more. Peter lost himself to panic. “You won, you won,” he said rapidly, words falling over each other. “No more, stop, please, I’m begging you.”

“Well…I never said I would stop just because you beg me to,” Ramsay said, cruelty lacing his playful tone. “Just that I would win the game if you did.”

“R-Ramsay…please.”

“Yes please.”

Peter felt sick when he saw Ramsay spit into his own hand before he grabbed his arousal and stroked himself. He moaned at the sensation, never looking away from Peter’s face. He grabbed Peter and turned him onto his stomach, forcing him onto hands and knees and Peter was sobbing harder than ever now. 

He could feel the head of Ramsay’s member against his hole and he tried to think of anything other than this. He thought of his Lost Boys and Killian but he could not associate them with this pain. His head ached, his fingertips burned, his palm throbbed and soon his body felt like it was split in half as Ramsay thrust inside of him. Ramsay hissed. “You are uncomfortably tight, Peter,” he complained.

“N-no nonononono! Please. Please, please, please…I can’t…please!”

A hand covered his mouth again and he screamed into it as Ramsay shifted before his body was close to ready. He was bleeding down there, he could feel it. Ramsay was not a gentle creature and he slammed into the youth below him harshly. Peter could hear his grunts of satisfaction as he ravaged him. He was having an easier time thrusting into him now and Peter knew it was because he was slick with blood.

He bit into Ramsay’s palm and was met only by laughter. “Dirty, dirty Peter,” Ramsay said again, voice thick with lust. 

Peter groaned. The pavement dug into his knees, scraping the skin. Ramsay slowed his thrusts, long…deep…pain. It was so painful. He heard the man snicker before his free hand wrapped around Peter. He was still limp, he could find no pleasure here. Ramsay squeezed him tightly, so tightly that Peter shouted into his hand again. Everything hurt.   
“You know, I always wanted to castrate someone, I wanted to see if they experienced having a ‘phantom limb’ there,” Ramsay said.

Peter sobbed in protest, shaking his head furiously from side to side.

“Oh Peter! I didn’t mean on you, I’m sure I’ll find someone…one day.”

He gave Peter another squeeze before he shifted his angle and thrust again. Peter was sure he was being torn apart. 

“You’re bleeding a lot…it must have been awhile.”

If only he could pass out, just let go and drift away.

“Not to worry though, I think I’m stuck in this town so we’ll have plenty of time for practice.”

Peter moaned into the hand.

“There are so many people here I still need to meet. I hear there’s someone called the Dark One…and a wolf. I could probably break the wolf and continue my hunts, that would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

He was gripping Peter by the hips now, Peter was crying too hard to think to scream. He was pulling Peter’s hips back while he thrust forward, getting in deeper, harder. Please let him just be done soon.

“I can’t promise you’ll continue being my favorite pet,” Ramsay said, sounding mockingly apologetic. “There’s just a lot of interesting creatures here.”

His thrusts were faster now, more erratic. He stopped talking. Peter cried out with every thrust, he was broken…so utterly broken. Ramsay was humming in pleasure and suddenly a hand was back on Peter’s head and his face was slammed into the ground. He felt blood leaking out of his nose, his lower lip was swelling up already as Ramsay slammed into him. Again and again and again until he grunted and Peter felt himself being filled up by this filthy creature.

“Phewww,” Ramsay sighed. He pulled out of Peter and gave his ass a harsh smack. “That was a fun game.”

The music from the bar became louder, someone was coming out. Ramsay stood up and pulled his pants back into place. “I’ll see you later, Peter,” he said, whistling softly as he headed off and disappeared into the night. 

***

“Have you really been out here crying? I’ve heard of temper tantrums, mate, but this is a whole new…” Killian trailed off when he saw him.

Peter was laying on the street with his pants hanging around his ankles and his shirt torn down the front. Killian could see blood staining the boy’s thighs and he rushed over, tearing his jacket off as he neared Peter and covering him. “I’ve got you,” he said gruffly. “Come on, lad, I’ve got you.”

“N-no don’t touch me!” Peter shrieked, clawing at Killian as he reached for him. Two of his fingers were covered with blood, the nails missing.

“It’d be bad form to just leave you out here,” Killian said and though his words were light there was a heaviness in his face. He became more grave. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Peter…”

Peter crumpled into himself, crying loudly until he was all but screaming. Killian gently picked him up and while he walked with him, the evening caught up to Peter all over again and he passed out.

***

Gold frowned when he heard the doorbell ring and felt a headache brewing when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. That damn pirate…He opened the door to tell him off, maybe he’d turn him into a rat like his first mate, but the thoughts vanished when he saw the state Peter was in. 

“What…?”

“Bloody move you idiot,” Hook snarled, pushing past Gold. 

The commotion woke Pan who looked about frantically and started yelling, fighting to get out of Hook’s grasp. “Let go! Let go of me!” the boy screamed. A well-aimed kick hit Hook’s groin and the pirate dropped him and doubled over. Peter landed on hands and knees, looking feral and dangerous. His eyes darted between Hook and Gold before he scrambled up the stairs, his breath heaving. Gold heard the door to his bedroom slam shut. 

Gold rounded on the pirate. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. 

“I don’t know,” Hook replied. 

“Nothing like that has ever happened in this town,” Gold said, eyes narrowing. “You smell of alcohol, pirate, going back to plundering? I’ll kill you for this.”

“I was never that rough with him when we…” Hook trailed off and the two men stared at each other for an impossibly long moment.

“You’re despicable, captain,” Gold spat. He’d learn more of it later, for now he had to care for Peter. He hurried up the stairs and didn’t bother snapping at the pirate when he followed. He paused outside of the door and took a moment to collect himself. Finally he opened the door, slowly, but he still had no idea what to say. 

Peter was curled up on his side in the middle of the floor, still wearing his torn shirt and his bloody pants. He didn’t look at Gold, he stared blankly at the wall. Blood crusted his   
face. “Pan…” Gold sighed. “Peter. It’s me. It’s your Rumple.”

“R-Rumple?”

Peter’s hand reached for him. Had he always had such delicate hands? Gold crossed the room quickly and got to his knees in front of Peter, taking his hand carefully. “H-he found me,” Peter stammered. His breathing quickened. “He’s still out there,” he moaned.

“Who is, son?”

Peter started crying again at the word. It didn’t matter what role they had, what they cast themselves at, all that mattered was that Peter was his family and Gold would focus on nothing else. 

“K-Killian…” Gold’s eyes flashed. “He’ll hurt Killian…I didn’t stop him.”

“I’m here, lad,” Hook said, stepping into the room. Peter beckoned for him too and Gold nodded stiffly. Hook sat down next to him and offered Peter a smile burdened with guilt.   
“You’re safe now, eh?”

Peter shook his head. “He’s out there.”

Whoever ‘he’ was, Gold was going to kill him. Slowly. “Oh…he’ll do it again, he said he would do it again. I begged him to stop, he al-already won but he didn’t stop…”  
“Can you give me a name?” Gold asked, trying to keep the murder out of his voice for the time being.

“…Snow.”

Gold frowned, the name was unknown to him save for the princess, but Hook stiffened next to him. “Who is he, pirate?” he asked quietly.

“Later,” Hook said, looking pointedly at Peter who began to panic again. 

“Let me care for you, son,” Gold said and after a moment, Peter nodded.

Gold helped him to the ornate bathroom and got the tub started. Peter very consciously wiped at himself with a towel Gold provided him before he stepped into the tub. Blood still swirled in the water when Peter got in but both of them did a good job of ignoring it. Gold reached out with a washcloth and Peter flinched.   
“Here,” he said, handing it to the boy instead and feeling like he failed him somehow.

“Heh heh,” Peter’s laugh was stiff and unnatural. “It’s like the spring.”

Gold had no idea what he was talking about and decided not to ask. He stayed in the bathroom but he gave Peter privacy while he cleaned himself. He only turned when he heard the water draining and he handed Peter a soft robe that Peter slipped into quickly. He held it closed so tightly his knuckles were white and Gold dare not even place a hand on his shoulder without prior permission. Instead the two walked back to the bedroom, where Hook had already pulled the blankets back on the bed. Peter crawled into it and pulled the covers right up over his head. Soon his breathing evened out as he fell asleep.

“You want a drink?” Gold asked dully, staring at the sleeping boy.

“Aye.”

They went to the kitchen and Gold poured two glasses of whiskey and set on in front of the pirate. Hook downed it in one gulp and Gold frowned. “It’s supposed to be savored…never mind. Who is Snow?”

“Ramsay Snow,” Hook replied, he had a dark look on his face. “The bastard’s mental. Used to be a Lost Boy until Peter had to banish him.”

“Why?”

“Skinned a boy alive.”

Gold had lifted his glass to drink and it remained where it was as he looked at Hook. He set it down instead. “Skinned?”

“Aye.”

“What else happened in Neverland that you aren’t telling me, captain?”

“Nothing that concerns you, mate,” Hook was quick to answer.

“You got involved with Peter didn’t you?”

“It’s not exactly your business,” Hook said, but he looked immensely uncomfortable. 

“Not exactly,” Gold repeated nastily. His eyes became dangerous. “If I hear so much as a whisper that you did something to Bae…”

“Your assumptions aren’t helping anything right now, mate.”

So the pirate wouldn’t answer his questions. He glared at the younger man, who glared right back. Without warning Gold lashed out, grabbing the pirate by the neck again and slamming him down onto the table. Gold loomed over him as Hook struggled under him. “I’ll have your truth,” he growled. He might not have paid it much mind on any other night, but Gold needed to lash out at something after what happened with Peter. It’d be more productive if he could hunt down Ramsay, but he would not leave Peter alone, not tonight. He plunged his free hand into Hook’s chest and the pirate cried out in pain as Gold’s fingers closed around his heart and he pulled it free. It was still tainted with black and Gold smirked as he released Hook.

“Damn you, crocodile!” Hook spat, looking furious but making no move to strike. Oh but he wanted to, Gold could see it in his pretty eyes. 

“Tell me more about Neverland, dearie. Tell me about you and Pan.”

“D-don’t do this.”

“Now.”

“I knew it was wrong,” Hook groaned. “But I didn’t resist when he started. I couldn’t. Bloody hell…” he tried to fight it and Gold squeezed the heart, making him wince. “He made a hot spring. He wanted to wash…my back.” That explained Peter’s odd comment in the tub. Hook’s cheeks were flushed. “I didn’t let him…he…he wanted me to wash his instead and he…”

Gold lifted an expectant brow. No, he did not want to hear about this, but there was no denying it was nice to see the proud captain literally burning with shame.

“Sat in my lap and…”

“Did you ever touch Bae?” Gold could put together what happened next. 

“Never.”

“The truth…”

“I cannot lie, crocodile.”

“Why did you engage in such…activities with Peter? With a child?”

“He’s not a child,” Hook said. “Not truly.”

“Ah, your technicalities don’t exactly exonerate you, captain.” His smile turned cruel. “His young looks had no effect? No special treatment? Nothing that separated him from the countless women you tainted?”

“He…” Hook looked as if he’d rather die right now. “Liked to call me Daddy.”

“Huh.”

He crooked a finger, beckoning Hook closer. “I’m going to return this rotted thing to you, but heed me, dearie, lift a hand to strike me and I’ll reclaim it and crush it to dust.” He shoved the heart back into Hook’s chest.

“Why?” Hook demanded. “Why did you force me to tell you about that?”

“Blackmail,” Gold said simply. 

Hook’s jaw visibly clenched and he made for the front door. Gold sighed, he’d much rather the pirate leave but he had to think about Peter right now. “What if he needs you?”  
“What he needs is to feel safe,” Hook said coldly. “So I’m going to go pay Ramsay a visit.”

Gold really hoped he failed. He wanted to find Ramsay himself but he didn’t stop Hook as he left the house. 

***  
He moved a chair into Peter’s room and sat in the darkness. Peter whimpered in his sleep but Gold didn’t have the heart to wake him. He needed rest so he might start to recover…physically at least. 

He couldn’t have slept even if he wanted to. Gold was looking out the window, watching the clock tower in the distance. He was startled when Peter sat up in bed and started screaming, fighting with the blankets. Gold quickly turned on the light and sat at the end of the bed.

“It’s all right, Peter, you’re home,” he said.

Peter stopped struggling but he stared at Gold with wide eyes. Both eyes were blackened from the encounter with Ramsay.

“I can’t escape this,” Peter whimpered. “He’s following my dreams…he’s following my dreams,” he started crying again.

“May I hug you?” Gold asked, he couldn’t feel awkward where he might have at any other time, he just wanted to protect the boy.

Peter nodded, trembling and Gold very carefully moved up the bed and wrapped an arm around Peter’s thin frame. Peter hesitantly rested his head on Gold’s chest while Gold wrapped his other arm around the boy. “P-promise you won’t leave,” Peter whispered.

And again, the anger he might have felt had Peter asked this of him on any other day was not there. He did not think of the day on the beach in Neverland, when he’d asked Malcolm not to leave him and Malcolm ignored him so he might get his wish. Instead he just nodded. “I promise.”

Peter relaxed against him and Gold recalled an old lullaby that Malcolm once sang to him when he became frightened during a storm. He couldn’t remember the words but he hummed it and he swore Peter smiled against him before he closed his eyes. As gentle as he may be now, a deep anger burned away in Gold’s heart. He was going to kill Ramsay. He was going to skin him alive.


	6. To Break the Great Divide

Peter slowly woke up and was overcome with pain immediately. His insides felt like they were on fire, his hand was throbbing and his head ached. He groaned and curled up but it did nothing to abate the pain. He realized something was next to him and Ramsay’s face flashed before his eyes. Peter screamed and scrambled backwards, falling off the side of the bed and hitting the floor in a tangle of blankets.

“Peter, it’s me!” 

Rumple’s voice sounded tired but earnest as the man came to his side swiftly. Peter stared at him, eyes opened wide and chest heaving with panic but as he stared at familiar features he eventually settled down. Rumple held his hand out and, hesitantly, Peter took it and let Rumple help him to his feet. It made his entire body protest and he winced, getting back to the bed shakily. 

Rumple didn’t say anything but his presence was enough for now. Peter didn’t know how to even talk to him about what happened. He felt like every part of him had been torn asunder, body and soul, and there were no words that would heal him. Though he did remember something about last night…Rumple calling him ‘son’ and utterly reversing the roles they were meant to play. Was that the answer? To ignore what their history would have them be and instead move on simply as family? He felt his cheeks flush and realized he had probably imagined it and he felt too nervous to bring it up. What if Rumple did deny it? What if he said Peter was just imagining things? 

“Um…”

“What is it?” Rumple’s voice was surprisingly gentle, Peter didn’t know he had it in him.

“I just thought…nevermind,” he said quickly, his cheeks burning red. He couldn’t ask. He looked to the wall, feeling bashful. 

“Peter…”

He closed his eyes but Ramsay’s face was back and his voice echoed around Peter’s mind. He felt tears welling up again and flinched when he felt Rumple’s hand on his head. He relaxed into the touch slowly. “H-He’s still…here,” he said, and he didn’t mean in Storybrooke.

“I understand,” Rumple said.

“No you don’t!” Peter hadn’t meant to yell at him, but the words came unbidden. “You have no idea what I just went through! What I’m still going through!”

Rumple looked momentarily surprised, but not angry and he sighed. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I do not.”

“This is never going away,” Peter cried, hiding behind his hands. Rumple must have bandaged his injured hand during the night. He kept trying to think of anything but what happened, but the more he ran from it the more it returned in vivid detail. 

“He will pay for this, Peter,” and Rumple sounded unsure, as if he wasn’t certain the conviction would help Peter right now. 

“You don’t know what he’s capable of,” Peter mumbled. 

Rumple didn’t reply and Peter was sure that he did not think Ramsay would be a match for the Dark One. Maybe that was true but Peter could not bear to think of Rumple being anywhere near that monster. He thought of Ramsay…loose in Storybrooke and realized he would not want any of these people to meet him. Even those who spoiled his plans…no one deserved this.

“We must warn Swan,” he said. “Spread the word.”

“You need to rest,” Rumple said firmly. 

“I can’t, don’t you get it? I can’t! I just keep seeing his face, I won’t rest until he’s stopped. He has to be stopped!”

“You’re working yourself into a panic, Peter, you are going to hurt yourself.”

“Please Rumple, please!”

“The pirate already went after him. There’s a good chance he’s been stopped already.”

Peter felt the blood leaving his face. “N-no! Rumple we have to go find him!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Rumple!”

“Hook can take care of himself.”

“Don’t let your hatred for him get in the way! Ramsay will destroy him and if you let that happen I’ll never forgive you!”

Rumple stared at him with one of his unfathomable expressions. “Are you still involved with him?” he asked. “Are you sure it’s not your infatuation that is making you rash?”

Peter felt the questions like a physical blow and he glared at Rumple, panic morphing into an ugly rage. “It was nothing serious,” he said. “Never was, just a bit of fun, but I do care enough not to sit back and let Ramsay tear him to pieces. If you won’t help me then just stay out of my way.”

“You’re in no condition for this, Peter.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter said, getting to his feet and waving away Rumple’s hand. “I won’t run from this. I won’t!” he shouted when Rumple opened his mouth to argue. “Are you going to help me or not?”

***  
Hook strained against the manacle around his wrist. He was in a hard, metal chair and his left hand was shackled behind him, the other manacle locked around the chair. His feet were also locked to the chair. His hook was in view, mocking him, from a nearby table. With his free hand he tried to find some weak spot in the chair but he couldn’t move enough to really find anything. He was in some kind of basement and he cursed himself for letting his anger last night blind his instincts. 

When he left the house he had simply set out, stalking the streets to find Ramsay. Apparently Ramsay had been expecting someone to go after him and when Hook rounded a corner it was to be met with harsh blow to the temple. The pain from the blow had subsided enough to give him clarity now but it was merely clarity in realizing he was good and trapped. The door opened and Ramsay stepped into the basement with an old goblet.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “Water?”

“Not interested.”

“Hm? If you insist,” Ramsay shrugged and drank the water himself. Hook realized he was carrying something else, and once he stepped closer he realized it was a thick bat. Hook steeled himself for what might be coming. “I was quite surprised to find you here, captain. Pleasantly surprised of course, we never even had a chance to say good bye before.”

“How the hell could you do that to him, Ramsay?” Hook demanded.

“You know, I was gracious enough to use your title,” Ramsay said. “So, in the name of civility let’s say you do the same for me. You may call me Lord Ramsay. So then, proceed, captain.”

“No, not lord,” Hook sneered. “How about Bastard instead?”

Ramsay was fast. One moment he was standing at ease, the next he had the bat in hand and cracked it with all his might against Hook’s shin. Hook cut his cry of pain short, refusing to give him the satisfaction, and breathed heavily through his nose. 

“Ah, I need a sword,” Ramsay said, hunkering down and pressing his fingers against the abused bone. “Then I could have given you a chance for a peg leg, make you a proper pirate.”

He put the edge of the bat under Hook’s chin and forced him to look up into those mad eyes. “You had a question, captain?”

Hook grinned savagely and lashed out with his free hand. Ramsay might have planned something for it, probably why he didn’t secure it but Hook didn’t care. His fist connected with Ramsay’s jaw with a satisfying sound.

***  
“Stop here,” Peter said plaintively when Rumple’s car reached Granny’s. 

“Listen, Peter…”

But Peter didn’t listen. He was terrified, terrified that Ramsay would be in there fooling everyone into thinking he was harmless. Terrified to find Emma or Bae in mourning over Killian’s death. Terrified Ramsay would reach out to him from the shadows and take him again. He shivered but he did not limp back to the car, instead he entered Granny’s.  
No one else had seen him since they fought him and he was met with cold stares until he saw the suspicion shift to questions in some of the faces, concern in the others. He must have looked a mess, his hand bandaged, lip swollen, and eyes blackened. He ignored most of them and saw Emma and Snow at one of the booths. He was hobbling over to them, pushing his body too much after its recent trauma and the two women stood up to meet him rather than force him to keep going. 

“Pan, what the hell happened to you?” Emma asked. She looked over his shoulder as Rumple entered the diner. 

“We’ve got a problem, Swan,” Peter said and he knocked Snow’s hand away when she went to touch his arm. He did not need her pity. “I need your help.”

“Yeah that might be a problem,” Emma agreed coolly.

“It’s for everyone’s benefit. Someone I knew from a long time ago, one of my Lost Boys…he found his way here.”

“He did this to you?” Snow asked, examining his various, visible injuries.

Peter nodded, the bare motion making a headache bloom behind his eyes. “Y-yes,” he stammered. “He’s dangerous…obviously…I need you to help me find him. I think…I think Killian might be in trouble. He went after him last night and…have you seen him?” he asked Emma.

“No,” Emma said and she looked concerned now. 

“Then we can’t waste any time,” Peter said, turning back to the entrance. His vision darkened and he lurched to the side. He was about to crash into one of the booths when Rumple was suddenly there, catching him and steadying him.

“Swan and Snow can look for him,” Rumple said, finally sounded irritated. “But you need to get back home.”

“I can’t,” Peter panted. “I can’t…please, I have to do this.”

“You wouldn’t be a coward for sitting this out,” Rumple said softly, so no one else would hear.

“It’s not about that,” Peter said, more harshly than intended. He knew Rumple was just looking out for him, but he felt like he might burst if they did not put an end to Ramsay now…and he had to witness it, he had to so he would know that he’d never be hurt like this again. 

“What does he look like?” Emma asked and Peter noticed that the dwarves in the diner had gotten up to stand by the sheriff’s side. 

Peter explained him, hating the tears that came streaming down his face and the way his body trembled visibly as he recalled those features. Emma was looking at Snow. “Call Dad, I’ll get in touch with Regina.” Snow nodded and rushed off while Emma met Peter’s gaze. “You should listen to Gold,” she said. “But I’m not going to stop you, we’ll find him.”

“Thank you, Swan.”

***  
Hook spit out a mouthful of blood, glaring up at Ramsay. He was certain his leg was broken, or at least fractured, and the pain was strong enough to make him nauseas but he wouldn’t let it show. Instead he sat back in the chair, feigning boredom. Ramsay only smiled at him before he took hold of Hook’s hand, tugging it out and examining it.

“Who’s Milah?” he asked, tracing a finger over the tattoo.

“None of your fucking business.”

“Ohh…captain…language,” Ramsay chastised. 

“Why did you do that to Peter?” he asked again.

Ramsay dug into his pocket and pulled out a thin knife. It was still crusted with blood and Hook knew it was the one he used on Peter just hours before. Ramsay was trailing it over the tattoo, his eyes finally leaving Hook’s face. “It’s about power,” he whispered. “Peter thought he had more power than me, it’s why he banished me from Neverland. He thought I would usurp him, become the King of the Island.”

Hook winced as the knife pierced his skin. Ramsay was cutting along the edge of the tattoo. “But I showed him, didn’t I? Yes, yes I did.” He looked into Hook’s face again. “Now. This is going to hurt, captain.”

Ramsay dug a finger into the cut and Hook clenched his teeth together. He felt his stomach drop as Ramsay began to tug at the skin, pulling it up and carefully cutting about it, pulling it free from the muscle. “You weren’t really too fond of this tattoo were you?” Ramsay asked innocently. “Oh, and in case you took me seriously before. I am a liar,” and he announced this with pride, eyes alight. “I was mad at Peter but if I’m honest, I just wanted to do it, simple as that.”

***  
“This is taking too long!” Peter wailed. “Can’t you do something? Anything? Your magic?”

“I need something of his,” Rumple said. 

Peter felt a sob threatening to spill from his lips and he looked out the window. It clicked. “We need to go back to the house,” he said. “His jacket, he gave me his jacket last night. I know I saw it downstairs.”

Once they reached the house, Peter tried to run back inside, but his legs gave out and Rumple didn’t have time to catch him. He fell with a cry and was trying to scramble to his feet despite the pain. Rumple’s hands were on him, firm and steady, and picking him up. Rumple half carried him inside and to the living room, where Killian’s jacket remained on the floor. “Wait a moment,” Rumple said and he left Peter in there. Peter grabbed the jacket and hugged it to him, begging silently for Killian to just hang on.  
Rumple came back with a small vial, which he tipped over, letting the liquid inside splash over the jacket. “Let it go,” he said and when Peter did the jacket floated eerily before them before drifting out of the house. 

They followed it, getting back into the car and following it out of the town to the large houses at the opposite end of the town. The jacket made its way to one that looked long abandoned and fell in a heap at the front door. 

“Rumple listen to me, you must be careful. Ramsay isn’t…he isn’t right…he could hurt you.” Peter was shaking again.

“You can stay here, Peter,” Rumple offered. “Please stay here, you shouldn’t do this.”

“I-I have to. I have to see him defeated.”

“Oh no, not just defeated. I’ll kill him,” and the Dark One was back in Rumple’s voice. Peter found he was comforted by the thought. 

Peter wanted to storm into the house but Rumple forced him to go slowly and quietly. The door was locked by Rumple waved his hand and it opened for them, letting them in. Cobwebs lined the grand chandeliers hanging throughout the main hall and all the furniture was covered with white sheets. It was oppressive and dark and Peter felt his heart pounding in his chest. He stopped, feeling cold dread when he heard a familiar voice yelling out in pain from below.

“Peter!” Rumple hissed as Peter dashed forward, ignoring the pain of his injuries.

There was a door that was slightly open, leading to a wooden staircase to the basement. Peter forced himself to stop, to take the steps carefully. He could do this, he had to do this. He got to the bottom of the stairs and hid behind a large chest. He cast his eyes about frantically until he saw the pair at the other end of the basement. Killian was in a chair and Ramsay was looming over him, one hand clenched on the pirate’s mouth, the other working that knife across his chest.

Peter was filled with images of Ramsay straddling him, Ramsay running that knife over his body, over his entrance, Ramsay cutting him, Ramsay fucking him. Violating him. He wanted to scream, he wanted to run back up the stairs. Killian was yelling something into Ramsay’s hand and Ramsay actually looked…irritated. It did nothing to soothe Peter’s nerves to know the monster could be phased. 

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

He stepped into sight and Ramsay looked up in surprise. “Peter!” he exclaimed. “You just can’t get enough, can you?”

His hand was still on Killian’s mouth but Peter could see by the pirate’s eyes that he was furious Peter was here. “Can you wait a moment? Hook is having a very hard time learning his lesson. I wanted to make sure he would remember it.”

He grabbed the back of the chair and spun it so that Killian was facing him. Peter’s eyes widened. Ramsay had cut away the skin there, peeled it back to spell out something. Unlike the word ‘mine’ he scratched into Peter’s hip, these letters were bold and spelled out ‘his name is Lord’ followed by a solitary ‘R’. “You see? I just need a moment to finish.”  
Peter should have attacked him, done anything, but seeing Ramsay again made him freeze. He stared at him with his lips parted and his limbs shaking. 

“Hmm what’s the matter, Peter?” Ramsay mocked him. He buried his hand into Killian’s hair and tugged his head back, exposing his neck, and placed the knife against the skin. “You banished me for killing that boy but you can’t banish me from Storybrooke if I kill the captain. I suppose you would just have to live with it, wouldn’t you? But do not fret, I’ll be sure to remind you whenever we…practice.”

“I think I’ve heard quite enough.”

Ramsay’s eyes narrowed as Rumple entered the basement, pulling on a pair of dark gloves. Peter swore his eyes were gold as he surveyed the scene. 

“And who are you?” Ramsay asked.

“Rumplestiltskin,” he whispered, bowing his head slightly. “Or as others know me…the Dark One.”

Ramsay had a look of glee on his face. “So you are the Dark One,” he purred. “I am Ramsay Snow…or rather Lord Ramsay,” he paused to pulled Killian’s head back further. “Isn’t that right, captain?”

“B-burn in hell, demon.”

“So slow,” Ramsay sighed, letting go of him and stepping closer to Rumple and Peter. Peter shrank back and Rumple moved in front of him. “Protecting the boy, eh? Not exactly the embodiment of evil are you? How disappointing.”

“It’s not about being evil, it’s about power,” Rumple sneered. “Which, you’ll learn soon enough.”

“Show me then,” Ramsay said.

Rumple canted his head to the side before he lifted a hand. Ramsay looked ready to laugh until his body was picked up by an invisible force and went crashing into the cement wall behind him. Dust rose up in a great cloud and Peter could hear him curse. Rumple moved his hand again and the manacles holding Killian to the chair burst open. Killian tried to move over to him but Peter saw his leg wouldn’t support him. Rumple seemed annoyed when he flicked a finger and Killian was pulled toward him by the same force that had repelled Ramsay.

“Nice work, pirate,” he said. “But I’ll take it from here.”

Killian frowned at him.

“Rumple…” Peter began.

“Don’t worry, lad, I’ll leave you the finishing blow.”

Peter understood why people feared the Dark One in that moment as he walked confidently toward his prey. 

Ramsay had regained his feet. Blood trickled down his face and his smile was all vicious now, lacking any sort of humor. “So now I see,” Ramsay said darkly. 

“Do you?” Rumple asked. He closed his hand into a fist and Ramsay’s arm jerked before a horrible crack resounded through the basement. It hung at an unnatural angle at the elbow, but Ramsay did not scream. His grin got, if possible, even wider and his eyes looked hungry again. Peter shuddered. “I think you’re starting to see now,” Rumple continued. “You can’t kill me. You can’t even touch me.”

“Think of what we could do together, Dark One,” Ramsay said. He was not pleading for mercy, Peter could see that right away. No, Ramsay was thinking of the carnage they could do together. He could only hope that the Dark One did not share the same interest. 

“I’ve never really wanted a sidekick,” Rumple taunted him. He snapped his fingers and Ramsay’s leg snapped. He toppled to the hard ground. His face was pale and he was looking a little more nervous now.

“Not a sidekick,” Ramsay sounded affronted at the thought. “We could raze this town to the ground, find a more fitting place.”

“Sounds like more of a hassle than anything else,” Rumple said. His grin was full of malice and he twirled a hand almost lazily. 

Ramsay screamed when his back snapped and Rumple’s face turned horrifying when he slashed his hand sharply down. Peter turned away when Ramsay’s spine was ripped from his body, his blood splashing up along the wall. He was gasping for his breath but Rumple wasn’t done. He moved over to him and delivered a harsh kick to his ribs before leaning down and plunging his hand through his chest. He came away with Ramsay’s heart. The whole thing was black. Rumple turned to Peter then and offered him the heart.  
Peter looked between the heart and Ramsay and all the pain and fear that plagued him that night rushed through him. He crossed the basement to Rumple and took it, staring down at Ramsay.

“P-Peter…”

“I should have done this from the start,” Peter said coldly and he crushed the heart into dust.

***  
The fresh air was like a tonic as the three of them left the house. Peter exited first and turned back to Rumple and Killian, the latter supported by Rumple. “Are you all right?” Peter asked. Apart from the crude letters carved into his chest, Killian was suffering from a fractured shin and, to Peter’s horror, the tattoo that once adorned his forearm had been ripped away.

“Aye,” Killian said gruffly. 

“Well you botched that revenge but at least you led us to him,” Rumple said and Peter might have snapped at him if he didn’t realize Rumple was teasing the pirate.

Killian did not find it amusing and it might have turned ugly if the sound of a car didn’t interrupt. Peter saw David, Snow, and Emma getting out of a truck and rushing over to them.

“Hook!” Emma called.

“Where’s Ramsay?” David asked, slipping the handcuffs from his belt.

“Dead,” Rumple replied simply, letting Emma take care of supporting Killian. Emma opened her mouth to yell at Rumple but he held up a hand. “I did this town a favor,” he said coldly. “And I’ve no desire to be interrogated by the likes of you. Peter? Let’s get back to the house.”

“Yes,” Peter replied, smiling shyly at him.

***  
That evening found Peter and Rumple in the study, Rumple with a glass of scotch and Peter with a mug of hot chocolate. He sipped at the warm beverage and it soothed him, mainly because Rumple was the one who made it. The silence between them was amiable and yet darkness lurked in the back of Peter’s mind. Ramsay would not be able to hurt him again, but it did not take away what happened and he knew he had a long road ahead of him…but for this moment, he just wanted to bask in Rumple’s company.

“You…” he began, feeling shy again but needing to know.

Rumple looked up from his glass to meet Peter’s eyes and Peter promptly averted his gaze. 

“Yesterday…I thought I heard you…I thought you called me…son.”

“I did.”

“But I don’t…I’m not…”

“Does it really matter?” Rumple asked. At Peter’s questioning look he sighed. “I tried very hard to change you. I tried to make you accept that you were my father, that you were Malcolm. I was being a hypocrite. I’ve had a loved one try to change me too, to give up my magic and I could not. How could I justify punishing you for something I was unwilling to do myself?”

He looked sad for a moment. “It cost me that love,” he said softly. “And I knew it would cost me whatever chance…we might have to be a family again. I don’t need a father anymore. I made unforgiveable mistakes with Baelfire. I blame those mistakes on you but in truth it was simply because I was a coward.”

“So was I,” Peter said. “I still am. Rumple…when you got to Neverland I was so afraid that seeing you would take away my youth…that my feelings for you would win out over this wish. So I antagonized you on purpose, did everything I could to make you renounce me for good. I just could not face losing this and now…now I wonder if I would have been better off.”

“You made a terrible adult,” Rumple said. Peter frowned at him, but Rumple smiled. “I don’t know why I was so persistent. Stay as you want to be, Peter, you’ll find no more arguments from me. Perhaps this is how we truly start over as you once proposed.”

“Start over…I’d like that, Rumple. But you better lighten up with the chores, I shan’t do them.”

“You will if you accept being my son,” Rumple said simply. 

Peter sighed. “You’re not going to make this easy at all, are you?”

“Come now, Peter, all magic has a price. Be grateful yours is so trivial.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

And Peter did not dwell on nightmares that night. They would haunt him, he was sure, but for that evening he was with Rumple. His father. His family and the great divide that separated them seemed a little smaller than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. The last chapter. At least of this story. I hope it was a satisfying end to you, dear readers, and that you enjoyed it. There will be plenty more fics within the Ties that Bind series, however, so keep a lookout for more!

**Author's Note:**

> This story becomes more complicated the more I think about it haha. Yes, there will be a fic depicting how Ramsay really fits into this whole thing so if that seems random now, it'll be addressed in another fic that will be part of the series. Also this is going AU from the show (obviously) where Regina didn't stop Pan's Curse by sending Emma and Henry away and making Storybrooke disappear.


End file.
